


As Hands Slip Away

by seeing_blue



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Final Goodbyes, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeing_blue/pseuds/seeing_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final hours between Alistair and Brosca.  </p><p>I hurt, so all y'all have to hurt with me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Hands Slip Away

"...Morrigan, no.  I'm not going to allow that."  Her voice was rarely that firm and cold, prompting Alistair to wonder what the conversation was about.  If it was with Morrigan, though, he could make a few assumptions as to why.

"Then you go to your doom."  The witch's own voice was, surprisingly, woeful.  Oh, there was anger, too, but not as much as Alistair had expected.  "Can you not see that this is a better alternative?"

"I've already made up my mind."  He knew that she was pinching the bridge of her nose without even seeing her.  "Please, just...go.  You need all the strength you can get before the final battle."

"No."  Morrigan's voice had turned to steel, falling back into its own natural state.  "There is nothing left for me here."

"Morrigan, don't do this--"

"It is already done."

Seconds later the door to Vinn's room opened.  Alistair watched with stiff awkwardness as she cast him a reproachful glance with those hardened yellow eyes.  Then, in a swirl of magic, she was a palace dog, disguised and plain.  

Alistair directed his gaze back to the chamber, seeing his ex-lover standing with her back to him.  She was staring into the fireplace with her arms folded, the visible weight of the world on her shoulders.  Her hair was undone from its usual thick braid, waves of brown hair cascading down her back.  It was a rarity when he saw her out of the armor they constantly wore; the sight of her in a simple tunic and trousers was still a surprising sight.  

He tentatively knocked on the door.  Vinn turned her head to give Alistair a sidelong glance, gray eyes piercing him to the spot.  "Yes?" she asked, the smile on her face when she typically saw him absent.  

Alistair's heart sunk to levels he didn't know existed.  It was the first time they had been alone together after he broke things off with her for the sake of the kingdom.  And Maker, he  _knew_ what was going through her head as he was talking.  Even after all the heroism and courage Vinn had displayed, she was still a brand, still a casteless dwarf who didn't belong.  And after all those nights spent in his tent, where he told her over and over again that he saw her as something more, he...

"Alistair.  What do you need."  Vinn bought him back to reality.  She was now fully facing him, stoic and solemn.  

"I..."  He couldn't find the right words.  He couldn't find  _any_ words.  So instead he weakly laughed.  "Well this whole Being King is going to be tough, seeing as I can't talk."

Right  _there_ Vinn was supposed to retort with something witty and teasing, and then he'd lean down--say something about her height, of course--and plant a kiss on her lips. 

But she only continued with her steady, unflinching expression. "If you don't really have anything to say, then I suggest you retire to your room to get some sleep.  We have a big day tomorrow."

What  _had_ Alistair waited to say?  Every coherent thought had simply vanished from his dumb head the moment he laid eyes on her.  He should just turn around and leave--

"Those reports in your hand.  Are they for me?"

"Er...yes.  Yes!  They are."  Alistair laughed again despite how he could literally feel himself dying inside as he handed Vinn the parchment.  His mouth went dry as their hands lightly brushed against the other's.  "Ah, Riordan wanted you to go over them.  It's just the number count for the forces we have ready to march to Denerim."

Vinn gave a single nod and turned her attention away from him.  "Thank you," she said curtly.  

"Is everything alright with Morrigan?  I heard you two fighting..."

Pain flickered in Vinn's eyes, but she hid it so quickly Alistair had to wonder if it had ever been there.  "Morrigan will not be joining us tomorrow."  Before Alistair could press any further on the subject she took a breath and questioned, "Is this all?"

No.  No, it wasn't all, and if he could just  _explain_ himself better, if he could just hold her one more time because...because Maker forbid that he should lose her.

The thought made Alistair's stomach knot.  "Vinn..." he found himself whispering.  She stilled, but did not look at him.  "I'm...I'm so sorry."

"It's nothing to be sorry about," she replied emotionlessly.  The absence of any feeling, in fact, made Alistair want to cringe.  "I helped put you on the throne.  If anything, I should be saying sorry to you.  It was you who didn't want the throne in the first place."  Her eyes met his, and Alistair's heart shattered all over again.  They once had everything in the face of nothing, and now...now they had nothing when everything was at stake.  "I can live with the consequences."

_But he couldn't!  Vinn, he couldn't live with the consequences.  The Void take the nobility, the Void take tradition, she...she was his love.  She was his world a-and what was the point of leading a nation when he had no joy?_

"As can I," Alistair found himself responding.  Against his will, of course, but it was still spoken.  After that, the room was filled with a type of coldness only living souls could produce.  "Rest well, Vinn."

"And you, too."

The second the door to her room closed behind him, Alistair's throat burned.  He quietly ducked into his own room, avoiding anybody who might have asked what was the matter, or prying servants and nobility that would eagerly gossip about his failed relationship with the other Warden.

Tomorrow was going to be the biggest fight of their lives.  It would determine the fate of Ferelden, of Thedas.  So of course Alistair should have gotten lots and lots of sleep.

But he didn't.

-

"Wait," Alistair called urgently as Vinn made her way to finish off the archdemon.  "I know you said to Riordan that you would take the final blow, but...let me.  This is my duty."  When her expression--and mind, ultimately--didn't budge, he added quickly,  "So you needn't feel guilty about letting me do this.  I want to do it." He wanted to do it because...because she had already given so, so much.  Maker, she shouldn't have to do one more thing.

Vinn only smiled sadly at him.  Her helmet had been jarred off in battle, revealing a bloody, sweaty, exhausted, and utterly beautiful face.  Strands of hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks, and there was a gash running alongside her brow, dark red blood running down profusely.  "You're the King of Ferelden, Alistair.  I'm just a casteless dwarf.  My sacrifice won't cause upheaval."

"No, Vinn! _"_ Alistair found himself shouting.  He latched onto her armored shoulders, fingernails scraping against the metal in a futile attempt to keep her there.  "Don't do this!"  The shrieks and wails of more darkspawn approaching to protect their ruler were growing near.  They didn't have much time left.  

She reached up to place a hand on his cheek.  It was brief and anything but tender--a desperate grasp at the one thing she loved the most before the end.  Alistair screamed her name again as she tore away and ran to the archdemon, sword and shield raised courageously, a final war cry pouring from her mouth.

And then all he could do was watch.  Watch as the woman he loved drove her blade into the dragon's skull, as a golden light shrouded them both from the sacrifice.  Hot tears escaped his eyes, and he  _knew_ he was screaming, yet the world was completely soundless, save for a single, monotonous ringing sound.

The blast knocked him and everybody who was on top of the fort off their feet, but Alistair didn't feel the blow.  All he could feel was his world crumbling around him as Vinn's presence flickered and vanished from his heart.  

Just like that, it was over.

Alistair struggled back to his feet and ran as fast as his weary legs would allow to the lifeless body draped over the archdemon's neck.  He fell to his knees and lifted her into his arms, a sob in his chest straining to be let free.  All he could do was hold her, bury his head in the crook of her neck, and weep.  At some point his hand had found hers, but there was nobody there to return the gesture.  "Vinn," he moaned in an agony so great he might as well have been dying.  "Come back...come back to me..."

In the distance, Leliana chanted a prayer to the Maker while Potato howled loudly in lamentation.  Zevran was sitting on the ground with his head hung low, and Oghren was muttering about finding the nearest tavern.  Wynne turned her attention to the injured nearby, occupying herself to keep the swell of grief at bay.  Sten had his back to all of them and was staring out into the city in silence.  The remaining soldiers atop Fort Drakon knew better than to cheer.  As soon as their savior had come, she was gone from the Waking World.  

It was Wynne who approached Alistair when the darkspawn fled, the wounded and the fallen had been tended to, and the funeral for Vinn and all the others would commence on tomorrow's morning.  "If you're here to console me, Wynne," Alistair snapped, "I don't want any of it.  I have a lot to do, now..."  _now that he was king._

"I know," she answered in her ever-soothing voice.  "And I will be out of your kingly hair shortly."  She handed him a wrapped package.  "Here.  Vinn instructed me to give this to you, if she were to fall."

Just the sound of her name nearly sent him into a despairing spiral.  Nevertheless, he took the package from Wynne.  The woman departed without another word, leaving the newly crowned king alone once more.

With trembling hands, he tore through the twine and thick brown paper, drawing in another ragged, choked-off cry as he saw what it was.

Vinn's journal.  It was bound in dark brown leather with a cord tied around it to keep it sealed.  Alistair unwound it and opened to the very first page.

 _4 Cloudreach  
_ _The world is too big.  I don't like it.  How does everybody else not feel like they're going to fall off the earth?  Duncan tells me that I'll get over it, but I'm not sure.  He's trustworthy enough, I suppose.  He was the one who gave me this journal.  He also laughed when I told him that if he grew his beard out a little longer he could get higher approval from the other dwarves, so I think he has a sense of humor.  Except when it comes to "Warden business."  Then he gets all straight-faced and whatnot.  I'm just trying not to be too pesky.  Or, you know, terrified._

_5 Cloudreach  
The stars.  Ancestors, how come nobody has ever properly described THE STARS?  They're breathtaking.  No, not even I could do them justice.  Duncan even told me a few.  I'm pretty sure I'm going to forget them tomorrow, but until then, I'm going to pride myself in knowing constellations._

_7 Cloudreach  
I hate horses.  I'm pretty sure they hate me, too._

_20 Cloudreach_  
_Ostagar is nice, according to the humans here.  You know who else is nice?  Alistair Theirin.  He's so TALL.  And funny.  He looks kind of dorky with that weird raised eyebrow of his, but other than that I don't think there's anything really wrong with him.  He's a good fighter, and he told me I was a good fighter, too._  
_I miss Rica.  I hope she's doing okay.  And Leske, but I would never let that sodding bastard know.  I don't miss much else, but...I miss the Stone.  There's a hollowness in my bones.  It's hard to explain, but I know it's there.  Maybe in time, it will get better._

_21 Cloudreach  
Darkspawn are gross.  And that Flemeth lady (I don't think you'll ever forget her so there's no need for a description) was pretty creepy.  Her daughter is...mysterious?  Kind of hot?  I have mixed feelings about her.  I doubt I'll ever see them again, though.  Still, it was a pretty...interesting experience._

_24 Cloudreach  
I made it through the Joining.  The others didn't, Ancestors preserve them.   ~~I had to watch Duncan drive a sword through~~ I don't want to write about it._

_29 Cloudreach  
It's just Alistair and me.  And Morrigan.  And also the Mabari I helped in Ostagar.  We came across him on our way to Lothering.  Alistair and I named him Potato.  I think it's fitting.  Morrigan pretends she doesn't like him, but I know she does.  She wasn't too happy when I suggested that she turn into a Mabari too and they can eat darkspawn together._

_30 Cloudreach_  
_Leliana and Sten have joined.  They're both pretty...different.  I like them, don't get me wrong, but they're different nonetheless.  The more the merrier, right?_  
_Oh, Ancestors, I'm going to die, aren't I?_

As Alistair read Vinn's innermost thoughts, he couldn't help but laugh at a lot of it.  But that laughter faded when he flipped to a page and a dried rose slid out.  He picked it up as his vision blurred.  Even though he truly didn't want to read for fear of completely losing it, he looked down at the following entry.

 _12 Solace  
_ _Alistair called me beautiful.  He gave me this rose, too.  I've never been called beautiful before, not even by Leske.  The feeling is pretty weird, you know?  My heart feels like it's going to fly out of my chest and my stomach has...oh, what are they called?  Butterflies?  Yeah, I think so.  I can't focus all that great, and my cheeks ache from smiling so much.  I don't think he knows, but I've liked him from the very beginning.  Even with that dorky eyebrow.  
_ _I think I'm going to keep the rose forever.  Aaaand Leliana is smirking at me like she knows exactly what I'm writing.  Ancestors, she's probably going to squeeze me for every drop of information about it all.  Not that I mind._

_18 Solace  
He held my hand.  It was hard for me to ever let go of it._

_31 Kingsway_  
_We danced today.  He stepped on my  toes!  Ha!  Zevran tried to intervene and show the both of us how a real lover would dance, and oh, boy, you should have seen the look on Alistair's face when he heard that.  I'm pretty sure Zev did it on purpose, but it was still pretty funny (not that I'll ever let Alistair know)._  
_After, we...well, you know what we did.  I can't kiss and tell, even to you, dear journal._

The further Alistair got into Vinn's journal, the more he could tell that the weight of their pending success or failure was weighing on her.  She hadn't spoke of how her friend Leske's betrayal affected her much to him or anybody else, but upon reading her journal, Alistair felt like a complete ass for not trying to comfort her.  There were high points, of course, but there were also times when Vinn felt so awful about the decisions she's had to make she could hardly close her eyes without seeing the sometimes bloody and fatal consequences.  But she spoke about the two of them lots, and especially implied the small, hopeful chance that they would both make it out alive and start a life together.  

Then he got to the part he had been dreading.  On that day--the day the world wasn't the same, anymore--were two words.

_7 Guardian  
He left._

They were like physical blows.  For a while, all Alistair could do was sit there and stare at the paper, at the dried, faded black ink, and at the barely visible tear stains.  After that page, Vinn's entries became short and direct, with no mention of him.  Not until the second-to-last page.

 _18 Guardian_  
_Morrigan came to me.  She told me that there was a way out of sacrificing my life to kill Urthemiel.  So of course I listened, because though I have no fear of death, there will still be much to do that will require my aid.  Because, after everything, I've come to terms with the power I have.  I want to use it to help the land that accepted me as their best chance, whereas back in Orzammar I was nothing more than a brand who was likely to die in a dungeon cell or from a knife in my gut.  Morrigan said that the whole reason her mother sent her with us was so she could conceive a child on the eve of battle.  It would absorb the soul of the Old God when I slayed the archdemon without the taint.  The only way that would come to pass is if she bedded Alistair.  I would just need to persuade him.  But I know a bit of courtly intrigues, by now, as well as Alistair Theirin.  Even if Morrigan promised she wouldn't raise him to be a successor and keep him out of politics, there would still be a chance of it coming into light.  And Alistair is too...honorable.  I also doubt he'd listen to me long enough for me to explain.  Because of that, I told her no.  And she walked away from me.  From all of it._  
_Sometimes I wonder if I have much of a whole heart left.  First Alistair left, and then Morrigan...she was one of my best friends.  Neither of us would admit it, of course, but it's true.  Now they're both gone, and I'm still expected to stand and lead an army._  
_I don't think people see me just as a person, anymore._  
_In that case, if I'm going to die, then I'm going to make death proud to take me.  Because in its arms, everybody is the same._

 _19 Guardian_  
_Alistair.  If you're reading this, then I'm dead.  I hope Wynne didn't try to be philosophical about it all when she gave it to you.  I don't have much time to write everything down because we're marching to Denerim within the next few hours.  But I do want you to know that I still love you.  I always will.  The world is a harsh place, and it takes and it takes and it takes.  But don't let my death take your desire to help and protect.  I learned to love it, through it all.  I know it may not have seemed that way in my journal, but I did.  You're going to be a king, Alistair.  I have a feeling that you'll be a good one, but in the end that's up to you to decide._  
_Even though I think I'm basically Andrastian, I want to be buried in the Stone.  Every day that I've been away from it, I've sorely missed its presence.  I hope you understand._  
_Build me a giant statue, would you?  Make my bosom especially supple.  And take care of Potato.  Don't let him get too many baths, otherwise he won't make your enemies cringe._  
_Oh, and Alistair?  Thank you._  
_Thank you, my love._

The King of Ferelden silently cried himself to sleep, that night.

The next day, as Vinn lay peacefully on the unlit funeral pyre so the dwarves could return her to the Stone, he spoke of her valor and the ultimate sacrifice she made.  He wouldn't be able to recall anything he said, because it was what people wanted to hear.  Rica, her sister, talked to Alistair afterwards.  The moment she left, however, the entire conversation erased itself from his mind.  He didn't care either way.  It wasn't until Zevran came up to him and drug him off to his chambers where everybody else awaited that some of the bitter ache was soothed.  Not in the way one would hope--if it got erased entirely, Alistair would have rejoiced--but it helped.  Leliana had her lute, Oghren was already drunk and belching so frequently it was hard to believe that much gas was in one man, and Sten was patting Potato on the head.  Wynne was stitching up a pair of his socks, and Zevran was sharpening one of his blades.  It was like before, when they had little else but each other.

They talked about her.  About everything she did, heroic and funny and kind and bad.  Thedas wouldn't stop talking about Vinn, the brave, fallen hero, for ages to come.  But everybody sitting in Alistair's room would talk about Vinn, the noble, casteless dwarf who had turned the oddest team into the strongest family, who diffused seemingly impossible situations with a quick wit and persuasive words, who spent more money than she should have giving to the poor and needy--as well as gifts for them, and who...

Who would continue to live on in their calloused, war-torn hearts and vividest, most painful, and happiest memories.  

It would take much longer for Alistair to smile at the notion, and even longer to smile at anything at all.  But when he did, he figured that Vinn would have smiled right back.

And she would have held his hand.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Chastise me for making such pain on tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


End file.
